


No Way But This

by honeyedlion



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Dark, M/M, Succubi & Incubi, Violence, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedlion/pseuds/honeyedlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>La petite morte, on repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Way But This

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring Sebastian as an incubus. Because it is a logical thought progression. Warning for dub-con and possible trigger-y bits.
> 
> Now with a Russian Translation by the amazing j_curious! Spread the love!
> 
> http://j-curious.livejournal.com/3037.html

 

 

_You and me are a disease._

…

 

His head is ringing when he wakes, and he feels dizzy, clumsy and thick. Each movement, each breath makes his blood rush tremulously through his body in a heady roar, and it washes him out, makes him tremble. The blankets weigh heavily on him, crushing him into the softness of his mattress, and when Sebastian pulls the covers away, Ciel trembles at the cool air.

His skin feels wet with sweat, but Sebastian runs his hand along his arm, and he can hear the rasping sound they cause, like sheaves of paper rustling together. The touch makes his blood rush to his head again and he groans. His breath rushes from between his lips in a sickly cloud, and Sebastian smiles at him, breathing deeply as though it is the finest perfume, bending down to drink in the smell of him as though he is opium fresh from the pipe, heady smoke to the other man.

“Sebastian.” Ciel says, tries to say, and whispers instead. His lips are terribly dry, and when he licks them they crack. How long had he been here, like this? He can’t remember. He can feel his lungs pumping inside of his chest with the force of bellows, up and down and up and down and the motion makes him sway a little in place, swinging to the beat of his own fragile lungs.

“Yes, my lord?” And his voice is reverent, deep and Ciel thinks with a sudden rush of true fear, hungry. Sebastian sounds hungry, so hungry that Ciel can’t think to answer him. His thoughts seem to be flighty things, hung from muslin just out of reach. He licks his lips again, and he can taste his own blood on his tongue, and the taste makes him cough.

The cough shakes his body in terrible heaving sobs, a death rattle and the sound scares him almost as much as Sebastian’s voice. He can’t seem to stop now that he has begun, and Sebastian is supporting him carefully, holding him steady as his throat tears itself to shreds and spittle decorates his lips.

“What…” He murmurs weakly, and then Sebastian leans closer, his face filling up his whole world.

…

He _leaned in, and Ciel let his eyes close, hesitantly, and then he was knocked back by a kiss, and a heavy forceful tongue. Sebastian was meltingly hot. Ciel felt dizzy already, the unsettled feeling of waking and being unsure of one’s surroundings. But Ciel knew what he was, where he was. Ciel was giving his soul up… He had been led here, and…_

_Sebastian maneuvered him to the ground and Ciel went easily. His limbs seemed to move so willingly, doll-like. Sebastian was undressing him and Ciel watched the sky. There were no stars above this island._

…

_We’ll line the clouds with silver tears._

…

“Shh, young master.” And Sebastian is pulling his nightshirt from him slowly, taking care not to be rough, and lifting the huge drape of fabric with careful ritual. Ciel watches his hands. They are huge against his body, and when did he become so thin, so terribly thin. His wrists like matchsticks, and skin so translucent, he can watch the terrible blue heat of his blood rush hectically through him. He looks at Sebastian with wide, weighty, terrible eyes and Sebastian smiles into them.

Even now Ciel is beautiful, like a crushed moth, wings tattered, life all but smothered into nothing. His skin is like wax paper compared to Sebastian’s rich rosy glow, and Sebastian takes in the sharp press of his ribs, the careful definition of muscle beginning to waste from his delicate, spindled arms. His chest is a press of bone, and sharp pale nipple, the skin around them chafed, and rubbed red. Sebastian reaches up, and touches one softly, a mere whisper of his fingertip, and watches Ciel’s face tighten in pain.

Oh his face. He hadn’t been so beautiful since Sebastian had first found him, a two-week starveling, face covered in grime and blood and fury so palpable he could taste it like a spice on the air. Now he has no anger, no rage in his face. His eyes are huge, trapped and sunken into the hollows of his eye sockets, ringed in black, diseased flesh under each eye, like decorative kohl. His mouth is a wet bloody smear, and unable to stop himself Sebastian leans forward, licking his lower lip into his mouth sucking on his flesh like it was the most delicate of confections, and the pain makes Ciel twitch weakly.

Sebastian traces hands up the cage of his ribs, pressing lightly at the soft skin, bruising it with just the heavy press of fingers. His hands trace higher and higher before wrapping themselves around Ciel’s throat. Those eyes stare up at him, those hugely terrible eyes, dark and vacuous as his breathing slows, and he begins to gasp. Sebastian can hear the weak rattle of his lungs, as they fight and clamor to draw in air. They flutter in his chest. Useless.

Sebastian leans down, and kisses him. He tastes thickly of blood and spit and soul.

…

_We laugh away our golden years._

…

Ciel _had lain there, breath racing in his throat. He felt so tired, his arms numb, leaden, weighing him to the ground. He watched Sebastian sit up, and straighten his clothes, his breath coming out laboriously. He felt numb. His pants lay caught on one ankle, legs tossed wide to the night air._

_“Sebastian.” He had asked, and the demon had smiled at him, so warm and Ciel felt his eyes slipping closed, drawing shut against his will. He tried to blink, and Sebastian raised one hand, and very firmly, if gently lowered them._

…

Ciel lays there. His heart beats in his chest like a caged thing, and he can feel the terrible pressure of Sebastian’s hands squeezed tight around his throat, each finger pressing in with such weight. It makes him need to cough, but he can get no air. His eyes stare steadily forward, even as the world slides to grayscale, covering in slow spots.

He twitches, tries to move, but his body feels like it’s no longer his own. He can only see the curve of Sebastian’s smile, those lips, never so red and full in life. Those cheeks lit with a cheery flush, eyes sparkling at him.

Ciel’s eyes roll into his head, and Sebastian lets go, pulling his hands away carefully and easing the boy back onto his pillow. His eyes sink closed, and his breathing comes in desperate tripping rushes. Sebastian can hear the frantic pace of his heart, and when he licks a soft, chafed nipple into his mouth like a sweet cherry, he can listen to his pulse speed frantically against his ear. Everything he is, so close to the surface. His heart on display, pressing against this curve of bone, this kidskin glove of skin.

His flesh is soft, and Sebastian licks it raw, his tongue running in soothing circles, that make Ciel keen through his ruined throat. He kisses down his chest, so pale and small, and Sebastian wonders how much weight he has lost. He is so close to death, Sebastian can smell his soul with every breath he takes. The scent fills his lungs, so rich.

…

_You are the bitter, I am the sweet._

…

Ciel _woke again to the demon taking him, each thrust shaking him, and he reached up to twine one hand into his hair. He wanted to- he needed- but thinking was so hard, and the weight of Sebastian crouching over, in him, preying on him pushed the breath from his lungs. He came in a sudden rush, and he cried out weakly at the feel, a terrible languor filling him. He breathed in, and he could smell the scent of his own sweat, and come, and something that smelled like Lau’s rich opium, but darker. It smelled like rotting roses._

_Sebastian was still pushing into him, over and over, a neverending rushing pushing shoving taking motion and Ciel felt dizzy. He reached up, anything to stop, anythinganythinganything. His eyes sank closed._

….

Sebastian reaches between his legs, one hand stroking him, and here he is hard, painfully firm and ready, and he wants. He forms his mouth as though to talk, but his voice comes out in breathy squeaks and gasps. Helpless little cries pouring from his crushed lips, as Sebastian straddles him, and sinks around him, hot and tight and wet, and Ciel pulls in a long shuddering breath at the feeling. Even the weight of the man, resting on his thighs hurts, pressing too hard onto muscles withered, and lost.

He can see the other man’s prick, rising straight and full, heavy and blood rich, and the sight is almost unbearably sinful, decadent. Sebastian seems to gleam, strong thighs pushing him in a swaying rhythm, his chest soft and alive, beaded with sweat from his exertions.

Ciel is watching his face, contorted in excruciating pleasure, the parting of those red lips, the lashes lying so beautifully on high cheekbones. His hair is an inky spill, brushing at his cheeks, and the sides of his neck, and it looks so soft to the touch. Ciel’s fingers twitch helplessly on the sheets.

…

_You are the circus I am the freak._

…

 He _woke again, and his breath came out in a heated rush. Sebastian was licking at his cock, long slow strokes, with the contented air of cat just fed. Ciel made some noise, some desperate noise, and Sebastian’s eyes flicked up to meet his own, those startling rust-colored eyes, and Ciel reached forward to lay a hand on one cheekbone. Sebastian pushed his face into the gesture. The heat of his skin almost hurt._

_“How long?” He asked, and his voice came out so drained. Even the act of such a simple question made him tired. His head was a long rolling ache._

_“A month.”_

_“Why?” Ciel asked, and he could not stop the wavering plea in that question. He dropped his hand, and Sebastian rolled, crouched over him, his body so big, so terribly big, it encompassed all of Ciel’s world. That time the butler stroked a hand along his cheek, and Ciel felt the touch, so soft like a scratch. Every nerve so sensitive, it burned to touch._

_“‘Carve the pain of my life into my soul.’“Sebastian said, mimicking his fierce tone. Ciel felt tears, huge, and useless well up into his eyes and spill over, burning hot on his cheeks. They ran down, and when they dripped low enough, Sebastian drank them in big sweeps of his tongue._

_“Did you think it would be a swift pain?” Sebastian asked, something like fear, and a strange, shy affection in his voice, and Ciel could only watch as the demon lowered his head to his cock, already pumped full of blood, and ready to serve._

_He screamed, and screamed. It took him longer, but eventually his eyes closed._

…

_Feel the stroke of your paintbrush…_

…

Sebastian is moving over him a desperate, heady pounding force, and every bounce, slams Ciel’s heart into his throat, catches the breath in his throat. Ciel can feel it building, this greedy, grasping pleasure, and when he comes his back bows helplessly, each knob of his spine defined in sharp, painful clarity. He comes in a great rush, and his vision grays.

He cannot see, but he can hear, and Sebastian comes with a choking sound, spilling hot, so hot, and Ciel feels so light and far away, that even the weight of Sebastian’s seed is heavy on his stomach and his chest. He can feel his heart tripping over itself, running into the ground, each rapid thud, as though it is trying to escape.

Sebastian takes a deep breath. Ciel’s soul is so close, sitting in his throat, like a present, and Sebastian takes a deep breath, drawing in the scent. It smells just as he made it, and all wrapped in the indefinable rich lingering taste that is Ciel. It is a smell that winds through the room, and Sebastian already knows how this soul will feel running down his throat. He trembles for it.

Ciel’s huge, glassy eyes, stare past him, finally blank.

Sebastian takes another breath.

…

_…my blank sheet of paper._

…

“Drink.”

Sebastian’s voice and it is strangely thick. Ciel looks at him, and blinks once, a long, slow blink and opening his eyes again is a struggle. Sebastian’s hand is poised before his mouth, wet and shining, and Ciel can smell it, thick and musky wet. His mouth parts.

…

_Read the fine print later._

…

_“What are you?” Ciel asked and his voice is a husk of what it was, no longer commanding. It rushed out, a breathy whisper, and Sebastian paused to hear him._

_A smile then, curving those lips and Sebastian looked radiant when he smiled. If he was beautiful before, now he was a being to inspire awe._

_“Incubus.” Sebastian whispered back to him, a sweet nothing in his ear, and twisted his fingers brutally inside of him, where he was already raw, and open, and Ciel’s breath caught in a whine, his mouth falling open._

…

_And the germs are spreading._

…

Ciel opens his mouth, cracked and bleeding at the corners, and Sebastian slides his fingers in with urgency that Ciel cannot make himself feel. They are so wet, and the taste is everything he did not know he wanted, thick and heady. His eyes close, and he sucks him in deeper, and Sebastian groans, and pulls back all too soon.

“Sebastian.” He murmurs, and already he feels stronger, though tired, so tired. Sebastian still sits, splayed across his thighs, wet and dissipated.

“Shh, little master. When you wake, things will be different.”

Ciel closes his eyes.

_‘You will be different…’_

**Author's Note:**

> Spread the [germs](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/). Or submit a request.


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